


Girls Don't Like Boys

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blackmail, F/M, Lolicon, Mildly Dubious Consent, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your little pupil is much more of a hassle than you really want her to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls Don't Like Boys

Your presence is not entirely necessary. In fact, you feel this is much more of a babysitting job than actually teaching the young dame violin. She doesn’t seem to like you much, though this could be less you and more her. She doesn’t seem to like anyone. Her friends appear to be far and few between, mainly confining in her notes and books. You don’t suppose there’s anything wrong with that.

You arrive at her home, the precariously placed mansion fitting for a family of their statute, the same time you always do, twice a week after school. The door opens before you can knock, Rose peering up at you with those judgemental purple eyes. You don’t see much of the woman that hired you, Ms Lalonde. You don’t fully expect to, either.

“Good afternoon,” you speak sharply.

“Come in,” Rose says, leaving the door open as she walks away. You close it behind you, politely removing your outercoat and hanging it beside the door for later retrieval. She already has her violin in hand, holding it by it’s neck, improperly if you might add. She does this on purpose and will later write down how you respond, a game that neither of you really win.

She stands in the usual place, waiting patiently for your cues as if she follows them simply because you tell her too. You take your seat before her, a chair not too comfortable but you’d never say that.

“Let us start with some scales today, shall we?” you offer with a simple hand gesture.

“Of course, Mr. Scratch,” Rose replies with a smile that, no matter how she may try, only appears scathing. She positions the heel of her instrument upon her shoulder, straightening her posture with a few little shakes of her slim hips. She counts rhythm on her tongue, soundlessly setting an inner metronome against her teeth of which you can see between her parted lips.

She sets the fine hair of her bow to the strings and diligently go about the usual eight note scale. It is monotonous and quite honestly, incredibly boring. There is no need to correct her, as previously stated she really doesn’t require your assistance, and while you could compliment her, this is often seen as passive aggressive and receives passive aggression in response. Unnecessary comments will only take away from her focus, anyways.

“Very good. Let us move on to a composition piece,” you note.

“Mm, in a moment,” comes the answer. You blink. This is not something that’s happened before, which is to say it’s quite unusual. Rose tucks her bow under one arm in order to use her newly free handed to fish her mobile from her really inappropriately short skirt.

“What are you doing?” you ask pointedly.

“Texting,” she tells you simply, not removing her eyes from her little device.

“I intended that to be rhetorical,” you assure her. Rose glances at you passively, the corner of her lips twitching minutely.

“I am aware,” she says and returns to her mobile. You stand, flattening your shirt around the stomach with a single hand.

“We do happen to be in the middle of a lesson,” you remind her.

“You’re welcome to continue teaching,” Rose assures you. You must say, she is particularly good at finding way to get under your skin.

“I do not think your mother is paying me to sit around and watch you ‘text’,” you inform her, reaching for her phone. She twists herself around swiftly, putting her device out of your reach without actually stepping away from you.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to know what my mother is paying you for,” she answers, glancing up to you. You look down at her, this angle giving you an excellent view down the front of her shirt. You greatly doubt she was the geographic they had in mind when designing that brassiere. “Is it true you were fired for inappropriate conduct with one of your students?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“That was an awfully quick no. How young was she, exactly? Or he, I suppose. You don’t really seem like a ‘or he’ kind of man, I must say,” she murmurs, tapping her mobile against her lip thoughtfully.

“Ms Lalonde, I am not sure what you are trying to achieve, but I assure you, it is not working,” you explain simply.

“Avoiding the question? She was young, then. That’s alarmingly more interesting than playing scales,” she chuckles. “Inappropriate conduct is a very broad term. A little too hands on with your teaching technique? Or perhaps simply teaching things out of your ‘area of expertise’?” She is stubborn, that is certain.

“This is very fun, I promise you, but perhaps we could get back to your lesson sometime today?” you suggest. “We would not want you to get rusty. We know how easy it is for children like you to get lazy.”

“It does beg the question why you haven’t made a pass at me, though. Am I not your type, Doc?” Rose questions, nonchalantly bumping her bottom into you. You take her mobile from her, a gesture that is equal parts you taking it and her letting you take it. You place it on the top shelf of one of the bookshelves nearby. “Am I too young?” she asks and then smirks knowingly. “Too old?”

“Violin. Please?” you gesture to it shortly and abruptly. There are many things you are will to take her up on in discussion and this is not one of them.

“Or maybe I’m just too smart for you. Did the other think you loved her, Doc?” Rose muses, filtering her bow between her fingers.

“Mr. Scratch,” you correct her. “Let us continue, shall we?”

“Yes yes. Heaven forbid any fun is had. The world as we know it might end,” she scoffs but all the same she raises her violin back to prop it upon her shoulder and takes her bow to it. Admittedly, as this is very boring, it’s a little hard to concentrate now. This was undoubtedly her intention in the first place.

Rose stops again, though this time her attention is on her bow, fortunately or otherwise. She frowns pointedly. She examines it for a moment before putting her violin down and approaching you.

“The hairs on my bow keep loosening I haven’t any idea why. The screw and frog aren’t broken,” she tells you, handing it over at once. You examine it with you own hands and Rose leans against your chair.

“You must take better care of your things,” you insist.

“I do,” she assures you.

“That is a very funny joke,” you say.

“Thank you,” she answers. You look over the hairs, plucking at them carefully to test their tautness. Rose leans her hand on your shoulder and you glance up slightly. You can’t recall having a student try to seduce you before. Their mothers? Sure.

“You will need to replace the hairs,” you tell her. Rose takes it back in her hand, swinging it around slightly.

“I don’t have a spare,” she informs you. “So I suppose today’s lesson is over. Lucky me, more time for me to explore my body while mother is away.” You sigh passively.

“Ms Lalonde, why are you trying to seduce me?” you question. Rose offers a curved shrug, plucking at the collar of her shirt and exposing more of the smooth skin of her breast.

“Mainly to sate my own curiosity,” she says as if it’s really that simple. “And to spite my mother, obviously.” This makes slightly more sense. Rose takes your hand suddenly, placing it upon her breast without hesitation. “Shall I act more innocent for you? ‘Please be gentle with me, senpai.’”

You push her against the bookcase suddenly and to your benefit, you actually manage to startle her a bit. She covers this up quickly, grasping your wrist in her small, caramel hands. Rose is many times smaller than you and it’s so much more obvious when you hover over her like this. She parts her lips slightly and you watch a breath of air get caught in her throat.

“Come again?” you murmur, slipping your fingers into the collar of her shirt. You push it down under her little perky bosom, exposing the lacy black bra underneath. Rose touches her tongue to her lip, her eyes focused on your hands but her fingers definitely don’t move to stop you in any way. You rub your thumb across her cleavage softly, feeling the goosebumps that arise over her flesh. You slide her bra down with your finger slowly.

Rose exhales carefully and you brush your thumb over her fawn nipple. This elicits a petite moan from her darkly painted lips. You roll the little nub between your thumb and forefinger and she tightens her grip on your wrist. You palm her other breast with your free hand. Rose looks up to you, her face flushed a pale pink. She’s out of snarky words for once.

You coast your hand down her stomach and you see her knees buckle a little. To keep her up, you wrap your hand around her ribcage, your hand fitting there nicely. Her knees twitch together as you run a hand up her thigh and under her skirt to rub a pair of fingers against the front of her panties. Rose gasps.

“Are you always so sensitive?” you ask, working your fingers against the damp fabric that clings to her wet cunt.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Mr. Scratch,” she breathes in response. Not entirely out of snarky replies, clearly. You push her panties aside to slip your middle finger along the warm lips of her cunt. Rose whimpers weakly. He soft skin is entirely too welcoming. You run your hand from rib down to her hip, casually bringing yourself down to your knees. You push her skirt up around her waist, holding her hips in your palms, your fingers nearly encasing her petite legs.

You press your tongue to her wet cavern and she jolts under you. She squeezes your wrist tightly, squirming under the hold you have on her petite body. You bury your tongue in her cunt and Rose bucks her hips against you. Or away from you. It’s hard to tell like this. Her young, healthy vagina drips slick lubrication down the inside of her thighs and when you pull away it strings to your lips.

With unwavering fingers, you pull the zipper of her skirt down, leaving the fabric to fall around her feet without any help. Carefully, you slip her panties down her silky legs, brushing your fingertips over her skin much more than necessary. You stand, bringing your fingers under her shirt to assist her in getting it off. Rose bends her little body willingly to you, following your lead without doubt. She puts her hands on the waist of your pants as you reach around her to unsnap the clasp of her bra. You can feel the heavy breath on her lips.

Rose unzips your pants, palming your hard on with fingers that are more nervous than she likely wants. You feel her hesitate a moment as she feels out the entirety of your cock through your briefs, certainly larger than the dainty fingers she’s likely had in herself. She looks up at you. You rub her clit with your fingers, flicking your fingers in her fluid. Rose moans, tilting her head against the bookshelf and showing off her tender throat.

Using your free hand you push the waistband of your briefs to expose your cock, positioning yourself between her thighs and rubbing your erection between the folds of her dripping cunt with a fine pressure. Rose whimpers softly, her skin eruption in little pleasured goosebumps. You bring your hands low on her hips, resting your cock against her mid drift allowing her to see exactly what she’s gotten herself into.

You part her plump cunt with your thumbs, grazing your eyes along her body to view her face. Her eyes are focuses on your hands and your cock, teeth biting the tainted flesh of her bottom lip. Slowly you press the head of your cock again her tight entrance, pressing forth calmly as she wriggles against you.

“The other was older than you,” you murmur into her hair, breathing in her scent. Rose whimpers quietly, noises that she’s trying to keep bottled in quite poorly. You buck your hips against her, burying yourself in her tight cunt. She yelps, grasping your wrist suddenly and throwing her head back. Her velvet walls clench around you tightly, spasming without rhythm. You grip her hips tighter, holding her still as you sink further in.

“Scratch,” she moans pitifully. You pull out fully, swiftly slamming back in again. Rose arches her back, gasping loudly. She only grows louder when you start thrusting into her, using the same rhythm she’s so good at tapping on her teeth. Her noise isn’t a worry in such an isolated house. You can barely hear yourself over the noises you pull from her throat. As it is however, her pleasure is honestly secondary to you.

Her sweet little body quivers and you hear the little startled noise that slips in with the rest when you cum in her. You lick your lip without thought. She digs her nails into your wrist, an effort that is probably unconscious, as you withdraw. When you let her go, she automatically collapsing, her weakened knees unable to keep her upright. You exhale calmly, tucking yourself back into your trousers.

“I believe we can call it a day,” you say simply. “Do get your bow restringed for the next lesson.” With a simple motion, you straighten out your shirt and sleeves, making sure your clothes are in proper condition to be seen in public. Rose doesn’t reply to you, but then again you didn’t fully expect her to. You head for the door, lifting your coat from the rack.

_”The other was older than you.”_

You stop.

“It’s quite amazing what you can put a camera in now a days,” Rose utters, her breathing still shaky. You turn to her slowly. She sits with her back against the bookshelf and her little mobile in her hand, it having likely fallen during your alteration. She smirks at you. You see how you should have been expecting this.

“Ah,” you can’t help your frown. “Very clever Ms Lalonde.”

“Thank you,” she replies.

“What is it you want, exactly?” you ask, approaching her with a few steps. She only smiles up at you, though, a cocked jaw smile that, for now, has one upped you.

“Oh nothing,” she assures you. “One can never have enough blackmail. I’m really quite glad you fell for my, what was it? Prank?”

“You’re a precarious little she-devil, I hope you are aware of this.”

“Indubitably.”


End file.
